21^ f' 



THE GOOD TEMPLARS' DRAMA 

cc 



— OF — 




A.VED," 

WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THE I. O. G. T., 



— BY 



Zort P. Hotchkiss, Esq., 

(OF THE GRAND LODGE OF INDIANA,) 

Author of "Lost," "Siege of Vicksburg," "The White Slave," "This 
House for Sale," "Ku Klux Klan," "The Hoosier Spy," <fec. 



"Saved" is arranged for amateur representation, having all the original 
stage business, relative positions, cast of characters, music cues, list of proper- 
ties and costumes, and full directions for prompter. 



PRESENTED IN 

"FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY. 

(COPYRIGHT SKCURED.) 




All the world's a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players. 

Shakspeark. 

I believe if the theaters were closed, the world, bad an it is, 
would be ten times more urtcked. 

Rev. Henry Ward Beechek, 



RICHMOND, IND. 

TELEGRAM STEAM PRINTING CO. 
1874. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874 by 

ZORT P. HOTCHKISS, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



3^ 



^ 



To 4 
^\ 

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN : 

This is to Certify, That for and in considera- 
tion of Dollars, I hereby authorize 

to produce and play 

the Good Templar's Drama of "SAVED," in 

County, State of 

and I further notify and warn all persons from 
playing or attempting to play the same in other 
localities, without my written permit, as any 
such act is an infringment of my Copyright, 
which I shall protect to the fullest extent of the 

law. 

Signed, 

Author and Sole Proprietor. 



Witness. 

Richmond, Wayne County, Indiana. 



TMP92-009151 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



Judge Cushing, Old Math 

Frank Raymond Leading. 

Dick Benton, Heavy. 

Charles Munson Walking. 

Fred Rawlings Character. 

.losii Slender, First Low Comedian. 

Joe, Second Low Comedian. 

Lena Bosworth Old Woman. 

Alice Raymond Leading. 

Fannie Stoddard, Walking. 

Ella Rice, Chambermaid. 

Policemen. Rowdies, Masqueraders, Good 

Templars, etc.. r>v .... Volunteers. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means right ; L., left ; R. C, right center ; L. C, left center : 
C, center of stage ; L. 1 E., left first entrance ; L. U. PI, left upper 
entrance; R. 2 E., right second entrance; L. 2 E., left second 
entrance. 



COSTUMES. 

Act I . 

Scene 1. — Light Summer clothing. 

Scene II. — Josh — Long linen duster; striped hed-tick pants, 
tight, very short, with boot-straps; broad-brimmed straw hat; 
striped vest: standing collar. 

Scene III. — Joe — White pants and vest: black coat. Josh — Black 
cut-away coat (old-fashioned), and high, bell-crowned white hat. 
Other guests in appropriate reception dresses. 

Act II. 

Allie — Traveling-dress. Frank — Very gay walking-suit. Fred — 

Foppish costume: Wears side-whiskers: eye-glass: parts hair in 
middle, and sports cane. 

Scene III. — Ladies wear masks and black dresses. 

Act III. 

Scene I. — Dick and Josh — Rather shabby. Frank — Old, rusty, 
suit of black. Allie — Dark water-proof. Lena — Black. 



4 Saved. 

this fast age, that lovers, or even husbands, are, as in old-fashioned 
times, to love and respect their sweethearts or companions? Fie! 
tie ! You are a regular spooney, Dick. This is a spirited age. 
Women are becoming too independent, and men too wise or lazy, to 
waste their precious time and talents in making love. Love! Ha! 
ha! ha! It, is made to order by our tailors and milliners, at onr 
hoarding-schools, and on 'change. Love is an ancient commodity, 
once used in cementing together hearts and hands. I'll tell yon. 
Dick, Spalding's glue were better. Love is now considered old- 
fashioned — in fact, vulgar. Love is now recognized in the fashiona- 
ble world as dollars and cents, houses and lands, social position. In 
a word, love is known, among the elite, as policy. 

During letter part of above speech. Charlie has crossed to Frank, 
and motions him over to Ella, whom he assists in rising, and the;/ 
go down c, between Faxnie and Due. just as speech is concluded. 

Frank. Now, we have caught you making love. 

Fannie. Not much. Not making, but breaking. 

Ella. Yes, breaking my nap. (/She beckons for Charlie to bring 
i- amp-stool to her. lie does so, and she sits down and sleeps. 

Frank {fanning Ella with his hat). Well, I trust it was a difficult 
task. 

Fannie. Breaking naps seemed to be hard Work; but love is like 
cat-naps, of short duration. No, no, love is like — is like (striking 
dramatic attitude) — O, by yonder hazy cloud, so pure and beautiful. 
I swear love is like — is like (looking up) — 

Dick. What (looking up as she points up) ? 

Fannie (dropping hand and turning to him quickly). Molasses 
candv. 

Dick. O, Lord ! 

Fannie. Sticks very well when it is warm : but when it grows 
cold, it breaks just as easy — 

Charlie. (Stumbles over one of croquet-bridges.) As we shall our 
necks over these bridges. Let 's remove them. 

The gentlemen remove bridges, taking them off stage. 

Fannie. (Crosses to Ella, and leans her mallet against her chair.) 
Ella! Ella! the gentlemen are taking up the bridges! 

Ella. Wait until Frank carries me across. 

Fannie. O, you stupid ! (Eli. a ya urns.) Yawning ! (Ella stretches 
hands above head.) Stretching! (Ella sneezes.) Sneezing! Good- 
looking bundle of sleep, rouse yourself! (Shakes her.) 

Ella. I am too sleepy. (Rests head on mallet.) 

Fannie. Then, sleep ! (Pulls mallet from Ella's hand.) 

Ella. Bring back my pillow. 

Dick. Charlie, look at that. (Points to Ella.) Is not that a fine 
specimen of womanity to fall in love with? 

Charlie. My dear boy, I would prefer to pay my devotions to a 
lady who is a little inclined to drowsiness than to fight for the affec- 
tions of a girl who considers that love is like — is like — O. bv vonder 



Saved. 5 

thunder-cloud, I swear love is like — is like — molasses candy! (Char- 
lie imitates Favnie's similar speech, burlesqueing it.) 

Frank (looking off r. r. e.) O, look yonder! The hoys are having 
a spirited game of foot-ball. See, there goes a lusty drive away up 
through the trees. Look out ! look out ! {Boy runs on from, e. u. e.. 
and foot-ball is tossed on. lie catches it and kicks it back off r. r. 
k., and exits after it.) Look out, there, high-kickers, the skippers 
are winning the game ! Look sharp ! Down she comes ! 

Ella (yawning). What, my pillow? 

( 'hitrlie. I move we adjourn for dinner. 

Ella. Bring it in here and eat it by me. It will save trouble. 

Dick. Let 's wait until the boys finish their game of base-ball. Sec 
there. {Crosses to L. u. e.) I declare, that is a sky-scraper. Hun, 
you rascal ! 

Hoy in base-ball costume runs on l. u. e., and as ball comes down he 
catches it and exits. 

Dick. Bravo ! bravo ! Sam is the champion fly-catcher. 

Ella. Tell him to come here and keep the flies ofl' my nose (brush- 
ing them away sleepily). 

XJharlie. Victory for the Bed-Stockings ! Now. then, a song, and 
then for dinner. 

Ella. Dinner ! Is breakfast over ? 

Yawns and gets up. Charlie crosses to her to lead her off. Other 
characters commence singing a lively song (music for song), and. 
exit l. u. e. Ella starts up stage, dragging stool after her. Gets 
to middle of stage, and sinks down on stool, Charlie trying in 
vain to wake her up. Other characters, having got baskets, re- 
enter, singing,' but, seeing Ella, and Charles, kneeling, kissing 
her hand, they all laugh. Charlie exits l. 1 e. Ball-players enter 
with others, leave bats c, and. eat lunch r. and l. at back. 

Fannie. Well, I 'm shocked ! (Dick kisses her hand. She boxes 
his ears.) 

Dick. So am I. 

Frank. Serves you right. If there is a barbarous custom in our 
civilized community, it is this stupid hand-kissing. 

Fannie. Perhaps you do n't like it, 

Frank. I do not, 

Fannie. Well, I do. 

Ella. So do I. (Yawns.) 

Fannie. Were I a gentleman, I would prefer kissing your hands 
to venturing within saluting distance of that open mouth. 

Ella. No accounting for tastes. (Yawns.) 

Dick. Tastes ! That reminds me, as I have no right to dine on 
any damsel's kisses, I propose we try something more substantial. 

Ella. So do I. (Yawn*,) Wake me up when my plate is heaped. 

Charlie. (Enters with basket r. u. e.) Ella ! Ella Bice ! Here is 
this big basket, without a blessed thing in it to eat, 

Ella. How stupid ! I was waked up so early this morning. I knew 
I should forget something. 



6 Saved. 

Charlie. And now I can dine on yawns. 

Ella. So can I. (Yawn*.) 

Frank. I propose we divide onr dinners with these unfortunates, 
provided Ella will perform a miracle. 

Ella. I'll do it. (Yawns.) 

Fannie. That 's no miracle. ( )pen your eyes and shut your mouth, 
and I'll divide my lunch. 

FJla. How can I eat with my mouth shut? (Yawns.) 

Fannie. Or open, either? 

Charlie. Come, Ella, wake up, and show them that your eyes arc 
beautiful. 

Fannie. Because they are so rarely seen. (Spreads table-cloth v.) 

Dick. Less talk, and more work ! Here. Frank, you shall have the 
post of honor. 

Charlie. Yes, sit at the head of our — our — table-cloth. 

Fannie. You can sit by my side this time, since your lady-love i^ 
too shy to join us upon the morning - of her wedding-day. 

Frank. But the rules of society — 

Fannie. (), bother society ! I do n't like one set of rules for the 
bride and another for the groom. If Allie Gushing is obliged to 
hide herself from her friends just because this is her wedding-day. 
why are you here ? 

Frank. To eat my dinner. 

Fannie. O, I wish I was going to get married ! 

Flla. Me. too. (Yawns.) Charlie, why don't you help me down ? 
(Gets ug.) I can't eat, sitting so far from the festive board. 

Charlie kneels ; but, osY.lla gpeh to sif oia his knee, he sits her down 

on stage l. 

Fannie {looking into basket). O, botheration ! The fruit-dish ha- 
broken! (T'akes it out and hands it to Dick, who kneels at her r. 
He (/roans, Charlie gives shrill whistle, Ella yawns, and, Frank 
laughs. This business is repeated every time Fannie takes any thing 
from basket. The dishes, etc. should be smeared over to imitate dirt.) 
I declare! In our horse-racing, one of the champagne-bottles has 
burst. (Repeat business explained above.) Dear! dear! The pie- 
plate has smashed (hands it to Charlie. Repeat business), and the 
pickles are swimming in the custard. (Gives pickle to Ella. Repeat 
business.) O, tormentation ! The jelly-flasks have upset, and the 
pound-cake is floating in the pudding-gravy. {Hands Frank a 
pound-cake, and repeat business.) Did you ever see such a mess of 
mystery? O, such a fearful conglomeration ! (Rises.) 

Frank. Good ! I like hash. (Rises.) 

Charlie. Yes. private hash, and not boarding-house confidence 
games. But champagne and pickles — bah ! I prefer to mix my own 
liquors. (Rises.) 

J)ick. AVell, it 's plain we can eat none of this mince pie and sau- 
sage,. (Rises.) 

Flla. Why not? It would save us all so much trouble. 

Fannie. How so. Sleepy ? 

Flla. It's already chawed. Well, if I can't get any dinner, I'll 



Saved. 7 

take my regular nap. (She takes the basket for pillow, and leans 
head upon it and sleeps.) 

Dick. Let's unbasket the wine, and drown sorrow in a glass of 
claret. 

Fannie. You had better wait until after dessert. 

Dick. AVe have already deserted (aside) that dinner. 

Charlie removes cloth, with things in if. from, stage. 

Fannie. You gentlemen had better wait about your drinking until 
the ladies withdraw. 

Ella. The ladies are too sleepy to withdraw. I have been cheated 
out of my dinner and out of my nap, and now, fashion or not, 1 
am dry. 

Charlie. Ella, there is a spring of water yonder (points r. 2 e.) I 
will bring you a glass of water. 

Frank (to Charlie). Give me the glass. You remain and keep the 
little dear awake, while I fetch it a drink. (Exit r, 2 e.) 

Dick. Ha ! ha ! ha ! That was well played. "Water ! He made 
that an excuse to avoid drinking with us. Gentlemen, have some 
wine? (Dick has basket of wine, and fills glasses, which he hands 
to others, who come down.) 

Fannie. They say he is a Good Templar, 

Charlie. No, I think not ; but I believe his name has been proposed 
as a member of Lodge. 

Dick. Well, here is my opinion of Lodge. I believe these 

Sons of Temperance, Templars of Honor. Young Templars, and 
Good Templars are humbugs. But here is to their success. (Drinks 
swallow of wine from glass. Ella yawns, and all laugh.) 

Charlie. See here, Dick Benton, I am not a Good Templar, but I 
am a friend of temperance, and I consider you are using too strong 
language. 

Dick. Yes, my dear boy, but it's a strong subject. I believe w T e 
have cringed and fawned to these temperance quackers quite long 
enough. I am for the greatest good to the greatest number ; and, so 
long as the majority are opposed to this subject of temperance, I say 
let the minority — 

Fannie. Grin and bear it. 

Ella yawns, and all laugh. 

Dick,. I say the minority have no right to be eternally hammering 
away upon this same old subject — Temperance (drinks) ! Temper- 
ance (drinks)! Temperance (drinks)] 

Charlie. You seem to consider it a dry subject. 

Ella yawns, and all laugh. 

Dick. And then these secret societies — who knows any thing about 
them ? They meet with closed doors, and the outer world is unin- 
formed regarding their acts. Why do n't the Churches make secret 
societies of their religious organizations? Were these Good Tern- 



8 Saved. 

plars so mighty solicitous for public morality, why do n't they throw 
open their doors and say to the unfortunate. Come in and examine 
our public works of reformation? For my part, I am opposed to 
these Good Templars. 

Frank. {Enters with glass of water r. 1 e.) So I see. (Eli. a 
yawns, and others laugh. Frank crosses to Charlie.) Charlie, I 
had a hot walk, but it was an easier task than keeping that bundle of 
morphine's eyes open. (All laugh. Ella yawns.) 

Fannie. Or her mouth closed. Mr. Benton, I will trouble you for 
another taste of that superb wine. (Dick Jills her glass.) 

Charlie. Ella! Ella! (Crosses, and shakes her violently. She 
snores. All laugh.) Ella! Ella Rice! Fire! thieves! murder! 
(Screaming. Then says, softly :) Here's something good to drink. 

Ella jumps up quickly, and all laugh. She goes to take glass. 

Ella. O, dear! AVake me up to drink nothing but water! Thank 
you, sir. I am not half as thirsty as I am sleepy, for I have just 
heen drinking wine. 

Charlie. Ella, was that right? Knowing my principles of total 
abstinence, you should have too much respect to drink even a glass 
of wine in my presence. 

Ella. O, do n't preach ! It always makes me sleepy. Remember 
we are not married yet — this is but an engagement ring. I drank 
what I liked best, and* intend to drink more. 

Charlie (offering glass). Pure cold water, Ella. 

Ella. I declare ! That puritanic whine makes me yawn. (She 
goes to stretch her hands out, when she accidentally drops ring into 
glass of water.) O. my beautiful diamond ring will be ruined by 
that horrid water ! 

Charlie. A diamond which loses its brilliancy by a cup of pure 
water is no befitting emblem of my affection. (Carelessly tosses 
water and ring over his shoulder.) 

Fannie. Thus are modern engagements made and broken. 

Ella. (Sits on stool l. 2 e.) All on account of a glass of wine. 
Well, I guess I "11 not break my heart (yawns), or my nap, either. 
(Sleeps.) 

Frank. Charlie, my dear fellow, allow me to congratulate you. 
(Crosses to Charlie r. c.) 

Dick (coming up r. o.) I say, Charlie, we will all drink to your 
better success next time. Eh? Fannie? 

Fannie. No, I won't drink any more. He isn't worth the compli- 
ment. Get mad and break his engagement because a young lady 
dares assert her rights ! 

Ella. Or any other man. 

Dick. Here. Frank, is your glass of wine, untasted. (Offers him 
one.) 

Frank. Thank you, I am not thirsty. 

Dick. Come, come, now. no quibbling. It 's cowardly to refuse, 
when asked to drink. 

Frank. Yes, it is cowardly, and I '11 never do it again so long as 
I live. 



Saved. 9 

Dick. Good! good! Let 's drink to that sentiment. It is cowardly 
to refuse. (All raise glasses.) 

Frank. Cowardly for a man — a sell-reliant, honorable man — to 
shrink from avowing Ins principles, and hide away behind such 
cowardly excuses (all lower glasses) as. No, thank you, 1 am not 
thirsty; or, I never drink in public ! Why is it necessary for a tem- 
perance man to thus disgrace himself by sneaking behind such 
shabby lies? Were you to say to me. Let's go lie, steal, or murder, 
would the rules of eticpiette require me, as a gentleman, to answer, 
politely, Pray excuse me ? No ! [ 'd assert my manhood by a blow 
straight from the shoulder — meet the request to drink as I will 
hereafter ! 

Dick. Very well, then, let's take a drink. 

Frank. No. 

Dick. Why not ? 

Frank. I never drink. 

Dick. Just this once. {Offers glass.) 

Frank. Not one single drop. , 

Dick. O, come, now, do n't get sulky. Drink this social glass 
with me. (Offers it.) 

Frank. Sir, you insult me. (He haughtily dashes Dick's hand 
a nd glass away.) 

Dick. See here, Frank Raymond, we want none of your temper- 
ance speeches here. You are putting on too much style to suit this 
crowd. Perhaps you think yourself too good to drink a glass of 
wine with me ? 

Frank. Yes, sir, you or any other man. 

Dick. (Goes down C. Frank goes up.) See here, boys. {They all 
go down except Frank. Charlie crosses to Ella and Fannie l.) 
Frank Raymond swears he is too good to drink a social glass with 
us. Now, I say lie shall drink; and, if not peaceably, then we will 
make him. 

Otnnes. Yes ! yes ! Make him drink ! (Let every gentleman on 
stage, except Frank and Charlie, say this.) 

Frank. Gentlemen, you would not forget ladies' presence, ami 
resort to acts of violence. 

Dick. Well, we will, my fine fellow. You are just coward enough 
to sneak behind the ladies. Here, take this glass of wine. (Goes up c.) 

Frank. Never ! (Music — a hurry till change.) 

Dick. (Goes down c. to crowd.) Seize him, and I will pour it 
down his throat, the stubborn fool. (Let the crowd advance a step 
or two, as though they would seize him.) 

Frank. Gentlemen, my temperance principles are as dear to me as 
honor, and I will defend them with my life! 

Picture — Frank seizes ball-bat, which he holds over head in act of 
striking. Ella rises, and Charlie raises camp-chair as tfiough to 
attack crowd. Ella clings to his arm. Fannie sliakes her fist 
at Dick, who stands near Frank, as though intimidated. The 
crowd all take position of attack, and every body stands perfectly still 
until scene is closed in. Be careful to keep center of stage in front of 
Frank clear of people. 



10 Saved. 

Scene II. — Wood in one. Noise and confusion lieard off l. 1 E. 

Josh Slender (outside). Whoa! whoa! Gee! whoa! haw! Gee! 
Whoa! (lie leaps as far onto stage as possible, and falls. II is 
relocipedc, is pushed on from off stage, just far enough to show 
front wheel.) There, I thought you would stop somewhere. Whoa, 
How, don't kick ! (Sits up.) Wall, chaw me into sassengers if that 
ain't the allfiredest tiling to stop 1 ever started. (Sees velocipede. 
Moves off is., without netting up.) Whoa, there! Lay still, or I'll 
knock a wheel plum oil*! (Chaklie Munson laughs off L. 1 e.) 
Here, you Tom Frazier. come and see if I am all here. I feel as 
though I'd heen jerked by a mile-a-minute steam-plow over forty 
acres of stump pasture. (Gets up.) Whoa, there! Stop friskin' 
your tail ! Blast the tarnal thing ! If you ever catch me trying tew 
break a velocipeder tew ride, you can call my old mother a Dutch- 
man, by chowder! Ridin' them is wus than breakin' a yoke of four- 
year-old muley bulls. I 'd rather ride a three-legged blind mule, 
bare-backed, with a chestnut-burr under his fly-switcher. Whoa, 
there, or I Ml spring a linch-pin ! I was out looking after Judge 
Cushing's cows, and came by where a lot of fellows was picker- 
nicking, up there on the hill. Tom Frazier and Bill Poole got me 
onto this tarnal critter, told me to hang on, and down the hill I come 
like forty wild-cats — jilty ! jolty ! over stones and into ruts! — barked 
my shins against an old stump ! — wobble and tumble! — knocked my 
head against an old limb, shied that big rock, (•bucked up against 
that blasted tree, and stopped — stopped before I had time to get off. 
and landed me out here about forty feet, ker-bump ! 

Charlie Munson. (Enters l. 1 e.) Try it again. 

Josh. Try the d — ickens ! Mister Munson, dew you think I'm a 
nateral born fool, or had all my senses shook out of me? (Chaklie 
goes up to velocipede.) Wall, by jingo, if he ain't bolder than dad's 
old cosset sheep! Now, I'd rather play with a double-geared chain 
of greased lightning than fool round another of these infernal patent 
machines. 

Charlie. Are you afraid of it, Josh ? 

Josh. No sir-ee bob, horse and wagon ! (Charlie starts it toward 
him.) But I do n't hanker after it any closer. Keep the pesky thing 
away, or I'll kick a wheel plum oft'! I will, by ginger! 

Charlie. Now, just watch me make it zip. (Exits with velocipede 

L. 1 E.) 

Josh. Jess so! There you go onto your nose. Say, Mister Mun- 
son, don't try to ride that pesky thing back up-hill, or it will get its 
back up, and kick up sideways. Gosh darn your velocipeders ! 

Dick [Benton. (Enters l. 1 e.) Halloo, Josh, what 's the matter '( 

Josh. Velocipeders. 

Dick. You look down-in-the-mouth. 

josh. Dew tell! Wall, I looked down somewhere else, a minute 
ago. Say, Mister Benton, did you ever slide down the Green Mount- 
ings on a hemlock plank, with all the slivers sticking the wrong way ? 

Dick. Never had that pleasure. It must give one a queer sensation. 

Josh. Sensation ain't no name tew compare with ridin' that veloci- 
peder down that hill. 



Saved. I J 

Dick. Did it run hard ? 

Josh. Hard? No, it run too easy ; but it stopped hard. 

Dick. Josh. I belie\ r e you arc a good, sensible fellow. 

Josh. Wall, I used tew flatter myself that way ; but the last ten 
minutes' experience has shook all such conceit clean out of me. 

Dick. Have you found work yet ? 

Josh. Not a lick, only off jobs. 

Dick. See here. Josh, how would you like to tend saloon ? 

Josh. Say — say — say it again, slow. Sa-loon. Is that French for 
velocipeders ? _ 

Dick. No, no. Practice at the bar. 

Josh. Study law ? 

Dick. Not much. Stand behind the bar of a retail liquor-saloon. 

Josh. A whisky-shop ? "What ! Me, Josh Slender, turn gin-ped- 
dler? No, Mister Benton. I'm hard-up — hain't got a sixpence in 
my trousers pockets; lost my jack-knife, too; hain't had a square 
meal in a week, and do n't know when the next one is comin' round : 
but I promised my old inarm, when I left her tew hum in Vermont, 
that I 'd starve, or 'arn an honest livin'. 

Dick. Well? 

Josh. Wall, it ain't honest tew lie ? 

Dick. No, indeed. 

Josh. Jess so. Nor 't ain't honest tew steal? 

Dick. Certainly not. 

Josh. Exactly. Nor 'taint honest tew murder? 

Dick. What arc you driving at? No, sir, it is neither honest to 
lie, steal, nor murder. 

Josh. Wall, Mister Benton, selling liquor embraces all of them 
modern accomplishments. Marin told me, when I come oft" West — 
"Josh,*' says she, "Joshua, my son, Josephus, do n't drink licker. It > 
a bad habit. It's nasty. It's wuss nor chawin' terbacker, layin' on 
your back with the night-mare. 

Dick. O, your mother was no doubt a good, old-fashioned dame, 
who brought you up in strict conformity to the old blue-laws. 

Josh. Yes, but old blue-laws are better than old blue-devils. Sell- 
ing liquor ain't not respectable. 

Dick. Why look at me ? Ain't I respectable ? 

Josh. Wall, you wear good cloaths. Yes, you — you look kinder 
about half-way decent. 

Dick. Yet I am proprietor of a saloon. 

Josh. Yes, but you want tew hire me tew dew all the dirty work. 

Dick. O, no. I sell liquor myself, sometimes. Somebody must 
sell, and why should I shrink from a licensed occupation which will 
support me and mine ? I am the proprietor of a grand palace con- 
cert saloon, where all the aristocracy of the city, even including 
Judge dishing, take their drams. 

Josh. Does Judge Gushing drink at your bar? 

Dick. Certainly, {aside) in a horn. {Aloud.) He is my personal, 
for I am his political friend. 

Josh. Wall, Mister Benton, I do n't know much about you ; but 1 
do know that Judge Cushing is a Church-member, and I ain't afraid 
but what he is O. K. I am just out looking after the judge's cow.-. 



12 Saved. 

They're going to have a wedding up there to-night, and I s'pose they 
want a little sweet milk for the tea-total bridegroom. I 've about 
made up my mind that my old marm is a little old-fashioned. Gosh- 
ashun ! I Ve heard her say so more 'u a billion times ! Wall, I '11 just 
drive up the judge's critters, and ask him if selling liquor is just tin- 
cheese out West here ; and, if he says it am, I'll get behind your bar 
double-quick (Dick starts to exit l. 1 E.) — provided, now, remember, 
I'm not to taste of your customers' liquors when mixing a gin-stmg, 
or to wheel your staggering visitors home on a velocipeder. (Dick 
exits L. 1 e. Josh exits n. 1 e. Lively music till scenes changed.) 



Scene III. — Full stay e. Interior folding doors. Represents Jui>ok 
Cushixg's parlor. Table stands k. u. v.., with cakes and wine. 
Glasses Jilted half-full. Enough for all guests. Sofa k. and i... 
with few nice chairs. A small stand i>. it. e., with flowers. 

Judge Gushing. (Enters c, shaking hands with Frkd Kawlixgs.) 
My dear boy, I am delighted to welcome you back from your long 
journey. 

Fred llawlings. Aw, weally, thank you — aw. I am extwemely 
wejoiced that 1 have weturned in time to congwatulate you upon 
this happy mawwiage. 

Judge. Thank you. Frank and Allie will soon be here. I left 
them at the church-door, and hastened home to see that all was 
in readiness for the reception. Bless my soul! 1 have walked so 
fast that I have set my nerves in a great flurry. 

Fred. Aw, weally, you have, by jove ! So Allie is mawwied. I 
can scarcely wealize that my littie playmate is Fwank Waymond'.- 
wife. They are to sail for Euwope soon ? 

Judge. They leave for New York in an hour and a half. Bles* 
me, how nervous I am getting! From NeAV York they sail for 
Europe, in a i'vw days. O, my nerves! A few of their personal 
friends will accompany them here from church. A little cake-eat- 
ing, lots of wine-drinking; a few tears, lots of laughter, and then 
farewell to the old home. Heaven make their new one as happy ! 

Fred. Amen, by Jove ! I twust it will be. Fwank is a gencwous 
fellow, and his gweat wealth will only be squandered to surround 
his bwide with luxuries abounding in the home of her childhood. 
I hope they will live a thousand years — I do, by Jove ! 

Josh knocks very loud l. 1 e. 

Judge. Bless my nervous soul! What's that? Who in the 
world has straggled into the hall, and knocks at my parlor door 
like a drunken peddler? Some fool I (Fked sits up stage. Beads 
/taper.) 
^ Josh. (Enters Li I e., bowing and scraping.) Yes, sir. Jess so, 
sir. Exactly, sir. It 's me, sir. I 've found the cow. 

Judge. Well, booby, do you wish to bring her into my parlor. 

Josh. Yes, sir. Jess so, sir. Exactly, sir. Yes, sir, if you want 
her handy. (Going out l. 1 e., bowing, etc.) 



Saved. 1 a 

Judge. Stop! Tell me. Josh, where in the world did you drop 
from ? 

Josh. From a velocipede, sir. Yes, sir. Now, .ledge, I'll not 
entertain you but tw r o shakes of a lamb's tail. You are a lawypr? 

Judge. I was formerly, (aside) Heaven forgive me ! 

Josh. Jess so, jedge. Exactly, sir. Yes, sir. Are you old-fash- 
ioned? 

Judge. Old-fashioned? O, how my nerves jump! Old-fashioned 1 
No, sir! 

Josh. Jess so, jedge. Exactly, sir. Yes, sir. I don't know why 
I'm glad, but somehow I kinder am. (Aside.) O, my, I've put my 
foot in it now. (Aloud.) Jedge, one more question : Are you re- 
spectable ? 

Judge. Zounds! you scoundrel ! (shaking cane at Josh, who bows 
and scrapes rapidly.) Do you wish to insult me? O, my nerves! 
Respectable ! You — you — you — 

Josh. Jess so, jedge. No offense. I forgive you. (Aside.) Now 
I've put t' other foot in it wuss than ever. It won't do to ax him 
about the Benton whisky speculation now. (Aloud.) Jedge, I got 
my questions a little mixed. 1 was intending to ask. Do you con- 
sider, or do you consider — 

Judge. Consider w T hat (shaking cane) ? 

Josh. Velocipeders respectable ? 

Josh retires up stage, wiping his face with large red handkerchief. 
Does not see Fred sitting L.j and stumbles over his feet just as Jok 
enters v. Josh runs against him, and then, in confusion, back* 
down stage until he runs against JnnoE, who seats him violently on 
sofa r. Job does not advance upon stage, but speaks in door <*. 

Joe. Mas'r Gushing, dat extra white nigga what you gaged to 'gist 
dis cullud gen'leman in totin' 'roun' de "freshments hain't yet 'ribed. 

Judge. Bless my soul ! Every thing conspires to shock my nerves 
to-day (going up to table). 

Josh. Jess so, jedge. 

yfudge. I have it. (liaises glass of wine.) Josh, do you think — 

Josh. No, sir, I never drink. 

Judge. Ha! ha! ha! (jumps.) (), that twinge of my gout! Do 
you think — 

Josh. Very seldom. 

Judge. Could you assist that good-looking servant of mine? 

Joe. Dat 's me. Golly! 

Judge. Can you help him pass the liquor? 

Josh (jumps up). Wall, chaw r me inter mince pies if that wa' n't 
persactly the p'int I cum tew r ax yew about. 

Judge. All right. Take your position, and. above all things else 
do n't get nervous. (Exit c.) 

Fred. Waitah ! 

Joe starts toward Fred, then stops and motions Josh to answer tin 
call. Josn raises Jist as though to knock Joe down. 

Fred. Waitah ! (Joe goes to him.) 
Joe. Sah! 



14 Saved. 

Feed. Wemovc this papah, and place it with my beavah. 

Joe. Yes, san. {Takes paper and exits c.) 

Fred. Wait — (beckoning to Josh.) 

Josh. Wait — (shaking his fist.) 

Fred. Ah! 

Josh. The niggah is now heah. (Enter Joe c.) 

Fred. Waitah! 

Joe. Yes, sah. 

Fred. A glass of clawet to wemove the dust of twavel. 

Joe hands Fred glass of wine. 

Josh. Waitah ! {imitating Fred.) 

Joe. Get out ! 

Josh. A glass of watah to wemove this potatah, so I will not stam- 
inah in this had mannah. 

Fred. (Hands glass to Joe, puts up eye-glass, and crosses toward 
Josh.) Aw, weally, me faih-haiwed hoy, you are shawp, you are, 
upon my honah ; but, by jove, don't ask an old man of uppah ten- 
dom if he is — aw — wespectable. 

Josh. Wall, stranger, I do n't have tew wear goggles tew make out 
that there ain't not any use in askin' you that question. 

Fred. Take youw place at the side-boawd, and less impudence. 
(Exits c.) 

Josh. Wall, by jingo! I've heard tell of buck-boards, and teter- 
boards, boardin' 'round, and all aboard ; but I swear, old black-board, 
(to Joe) what and where is a side-board ? (Joe points to table, behind 
which he stands, arranging glasses.) Wall, gosh durn my pewter 
buttons if Judge Cushing hain't got a private whisky-shop in his 
spare room. This must be what they call new fashions. Wall, ] 
reckon if it's right tew wait on Judge Cushing's guests tew licker 
in his parlor, it must be correct tew help Dick Benton's visitors al 
his saloon, where drinking liquor belongs. I see I've been brought 
up tew tar toward the x-ising sun. I 'm green. I 'm too allfired old- 
fashioned for the West ; but 1 '11 show that grinnin' burlesque on 
American citizenship that I know a thing or two about -'wespectable" 
society. (Josh fixes his hat firmly on his head, takes out handker- 
chief, and blows his nose violently.) Waitah, live cents worth of rum ! 

Joe. G' way from heah, white trash ! Guess you do n't know whar 
you is, and who you 's sultin', orderin' rum. 

Josh. (Aside.) I knew I 'd surprise him with my knowledge of 
fashionable drinks. I'd order a lemonade or a ginger pop, only I 
want he should think I'm used tew these fashionable lickers. I'll 
raise him a cent. (Swaggers up to counter with hat on side of head.) 
Give us six cents worth of brandy. 

Joe. (Aside.) 'Spec' dat green-horn's drunk. Dese poor white 
trash do n't know 'nuff to drink when dey 's dry. (Aloud.) Do you 
think you is in saloon, orderin' brandy? 

Josh. (Aside.) My knowledge of fashionable beverages makes 
that benighted African look pale. I '11 go it a little stronger. (Puts 
hat on back of head. Thrusts hands into pants-pockets.) Seven 
cents worth of whisky. 



Saved. 15 

Joe. Sec heah, my friend. (Comes out and lays hand on Josh's 
shoulder.) 

Josh. Look here, Africa, take them cotton-pickers oft' of my good 
cloaths immejiate, if not sooner. (Joe removes hand. Josu brushes 
dirt from shoulder.) . > 

Joe. O, I ain't proud. I ain't 'shamed ob your ole close. (Locks 
arms with Josh, and come down c.) 

Josh. See here, nigger! (quickly taking attitude of attack.) 

Joe. Nigga'? Who you callin' nigga'? (Josh approaches, as 
though to strike.) Look out, dar, white man, do n't you struck dis 

chile, or he '11 hab you up 'fore Mayor for tryin' to make me 

salt an' butter you. Now, I want to tole you something. You is 
ole-fashioned. (Josh threatening to strike.) Steddy, dar, on de 
right! You is green, and dat's wuss dan bein' black. (Josh threat- 
ens.) Go slow, dar, Yank, cos you 's a fool. (Josh k?iocks him down. 
Let Joe fall heavily, and Josh stand over him, with foot raised, as 
though to kick him. Joe sits up, rubbing his head.) Who fro wed 
dat last brick fust ? Golly ! dat Avas a stunner ! See heah, you 's too 
careless, boss — you is, suah. (Gets up.) Do n't be skeered. I won't 
hurt you. (Crawls away from Josh, and gets up.) Don'tbe 'fraid. 
I would n't struck you more dan I would my own mudder, if I 'd 
ebber had one. (Josh advances with raised hand, Joe escaping.) 
Don't 'larm yourself. I's as gentle as a lamb. 

Josh. Yes, 'cos I lammed you. 

Joe. Dese lickers you mention are not known in de 'ristocratic 
'cabulary. Dey nebber 'pear on de side-board or in a gen'leman's 
parlor; but whenebber you find wine and champagne up-stairs. 
dere's brandy and whisky in de cellar for de old buffers. Alius 
drink light lickers in ladies' presence — 'cos why, dat \s fashionable. 
(Retires behind table r.) 

Josh. (Aside.) Expect that shade of Ethiopia knows more 'bout 
fashionable spirits than I do ; but I '11 try again. (Takes off hat and 
buttons up coat, and orders pompously, retiring behind table r. as 
guests enter.) Give us ten cents worth of gin and molasses. 

Lively music. Judge Cushing enters c, bowing to guests as they 
enter. Munson and Fannie enter c, arm-in-arm, and take sofa r. 
Benton and Ella follow, and take sofa l. Kawlings and lady, 
and gent and lady, enter and go r. and l., and others, if stage is 
large. Joe takes one tvaiter, and Josh the other, with half-filled 
glasses on each, and pass to guests, then retire behind table. 

Charlie. Fannie, my dear girl, do you think that Mr. Benton' and 
Miss Rice will ever become husband and wife. 

Fannie. Really, Mr. Munson, I would not have any such needless 
fears, for the stupid thing can't keep awake long enough for him to 
propose. 

Ella. Mr. Benton, are you engaged ? 

Dick. Well, really, my dear girl — (Rises, confused.) 

Ella. Yes or no. Are you engaged ? 

Dick. (Aside.) Jerusalem! She is going to propose. (Aloud.) No. 

Ella. Then, if you love me — 



16 Saved. 

Dick. Yes ! yes ! (Kneels, taking her hand.) 

Ella (turning away languidly). Wake ine up when the bridegroom 
comes. (Yawns, and, dropping head on sofa-arm, sleeps. Dick 
jumps up quickly. During this speech Jok has taken his place in c. 
door, and note announces. All guests rise and bow as bride and 
groom enter.) 

Job. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Raymond. 

Lively music. Jok exits o, Frank and Allik enter c. door and stand 
c. Judge at. their l. Feed comes up r. Allik stands on Frank's l. 

Fred. Fwauk, my deah fellow, allow me to be the first to otter my 
vewy best. May youh wedded life be an eternity of happiness ! 
Vow, Allie, I claim but one pwivilege to-night. It's mine by a 
seniowity of fwiendship. I wish to oftah the congwatulatowv toast, 
" To the Wide !" 

Every Body. To the bride! (raising glasses high. Judge crosses 
to Dick.) 

Frank. Thank you, sir. (Turns to Josh.) A glass of water for 
me. (Guests lower glasses.) 

Josh. Do n't water your liquor. It's not fashionable. 

Frkd. Cowwect. We want the puah bevcwage to-night. Happi- 
ness and long life to the bwide ! (liaises glass.) 

Frank. Ah, Fred, do not mar that happiness by proposing a toast 
which I see must be drank in wine. 

Judge, crosses back to Allik. 

,1 u DGR. Eh ? W hat 's that ? 

Fred. Fwank. do n't be an old fogy. You awe suwwounded b> 
the votawies of fashion. Now, do n't be too wadieal on youh old 
hobby, tempewance. 

Frank. Say, rather, too neglectful of my principles of total absti- 
nence. 

Fred. But you will suwely dwink this once. See, youh obstinacy 
is attwactiug the attention of youh guests. Dwink youh bwidal 
toast. 

Frank. No, sir. It is against my principles. 

Judge. Principles be — hanged! O, my nerves ! What have prin- 
ciples to do with a newly married man ? Do you realize where you 
are, sir? 

Frank. Yes, but these surroundings would almost lead me to 
believe that I was not in a gentleman's parlor. 

Juuge (going all about stage in his fury). Zounds! how nervous 
I am getting ! Are you aware, sir, that you are offering a gross and 
unpardonable insult to my daughter, your wife? 

Frank. It would be a greater insult were I to so far forget her 
purity as to drink intoxicating liquor in presence of the only woman 
1 ever loved. p ' 

Judge. What will people say ? 

Frank. Who cares what they say ? O, sir, do not try to frighten 
me into doing wrong by this bug-bear of fashionable tattle! Once, 
and for the last time. I will only drink the toast in cold water. 



Saved-. 1 7 

Josh. (Comes out to Frank's k.) You 're old-fashioned. Beg 
pardon, sir. (Mows.) You 're green. (Scrapes.) Excuse me, sir 
You 're not respectable. 

Judge. Silence, fool ! 

Josh. Jess so, jedge. Yes, sir. Exactly, sir. (Exits rt. 2 E.) 

Judge (crossing and recrossing stage as he speaks). Frank Ray- 
mond, do n't get excited. Keep cool, or you '11 make me nervous; 
and I would not welcome you as my son-in-law beneath this roof 
only in anger, to bid you leave it forever. ( Very angry and excited.) 
Now, do n't fly into a passion. Do n't get nervous. Pattern after 
me ; for, by the eternal, if you dare thus publicly to bring disgrace 
upon me and mine, the house you insult shall no longer be your 
home ! 

Allik. (Goes and lays hand on his shoulder.) O, father! 

Judge. (Throws off her hand angrily.) Do n't father me, madam. 
Teach your husband to show me proper respect, or do not dare to 
insult me by the name of father. (Exits in rage c.) 

Allie. Frank, I am very sorry. Kind friends, will you excuse 
me. (Exit c.) 

Charles. (Crosses to Frank r.) Frank, as your friend, let me 
urge you. I am opposed to drinking intoxicating liquors as a bev- 
erage, but upon this occasion I would yield a little. See, you are 
surrounded by the votaries of fashion. 

Frank. My friends, none can regret this unfortunate termination 
of our bridal festivities more profoundly than myself. I am grieved 
that you surround me here, upon my wedding night, holding in your 
good right hands, which I so oft have pressed in friendship, that 
which should reflect its own blush of shame to every honest face. 
Raise your glasses higher, still higher, and let the red" wine sparkle 
in its beauty. Now, pause (all glasses held high) and reflect. Thus, 
even thus, in our pleasant homes, in our fashionable parlors, is the 
first step taken in the drunkard's career. (Lower glasses.) It is a 
shame, a burning, blasting shame, that these fashionable, aristocratic 
home manufactories of drunkards are not frowned upon by public 
sentiment, and that, even at open house on New Year's day, any lady 
should convert reception-rooms into a recruiting station for King 
Alcohol ! 

Charles. Frank ! Frank ! Are you mad ? Think what you are 
saying. Here, take my glass. (Frank does so.) Now, drink. 

Frank. No, sir. Never! 

Charles. (Aside.) Well, pretend you drink. 

Frank. And act a lie? 

Charles. For my sake. 

Allie and Judge enter c, 

Frank. Charles Munson, you have known me from childhood. 
You know that at a broken-hearted mother's death-bed, I kneeled 
down upon the floor beside the remains of my murdered father, and 
swore by my hopes of heaven I would never drink that which killed 
him. You know that I have never violated that oath — never have 
drunk the first drop of intoxicating liquor. If I drink this glass of 
wine, I may become a drunkard. If I do. Charles Munson, at the 



IS Saved. 

last great day will you stand beside me then as now. and, looking 
up into my mother's sainted face, even at the throne of God, will 
yon be responsible for the first glass ? 

Charlie. {After a moment's pause, pushes away glass from Frank's 
lips.) No. I dare not. 

Allik. (Steps forward to Frank and takes Iris (/lass.) I dare.' 
Drink. ' I know that my love for you and yours for me will shield 
you from over-indulgence. I take the responsibility. Drink! It is 
our bridal toast. Frank, take it, for my sake. Husband, if you love 
me, drink ! 

Allie raises the glass to his lips. He drinks. Other guests stand in 
sorrow, without drinking. Benton is smiling and nodding his 
head at the Judge, who is rubbing his hands in high glee. Tab- 
leau. Slow Curtain. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — Same as Act I, Scene III. One sofa l. 2 e. Two chairs 
n. 2 e. Small stand l. c. Table r. u. e. Server, with half-dozen 
half-filled glasses, off stage at back. Lively music at curtain. 

Judge. (Enters c, shaking hands with Frank, who is very lively in 
speech and action.) My dear boy, I am glad you have returned in 
safety. 

Frank. Yes, safe and sound. (They go down r. c.) 

Charles. (Enters with Allie c.) Allie. I congratulate you upon 
the safety with which you have accomplished your long journey. 
(They sit upon sofa.) 

Allie. Thank you, Cousin Charlie, we have had a splendid time. 

Frank. You bet ! A jolly old time! Here, Joe! 

Joe. (Enters c.) Hello ! 

Frank. Some catawba. 

Joe. What-aw-by ? 

Frank. Catawba, fool ! 

Joe. Golly! Is dat furrin ? 'Fore goodness, Mas'r Frank, I'se 
dun forgot what kind ob licker catawby fool is. 

Frank. Sir! 

Joe. Yes, sir. (Joe going out c.) 

Frank. Here, Joe ! 

Joe. Hello ! (Returns.) 

Frank. Some port. 

Joe. Yes, sah. (Going.) 

Frank. Here, Joe ! 

Joe (very loud). Hello ! 

Frank. Some claret. 

Joe. Yes, sah. (Going.) 

Frank. Here, Joe I 



Saved. 19 

Joe {faintly, as though exhausted). Hello! 

Frank. Nothing more. 

Joe {counting on fingers, aside). Catawby fool — claret — port — 
nothing more. Gollv ! 'Spec' I 'd better bring him 'alf-and'alf. 
{Exit c.) 

Frank. Father, do yon remember, six mouths ago to-night, how 
mad you got, because I refused to drink a glass of wine ? You 
threatened to kick me out if I would n't drink; and I swore I'd 
never touch, taste, nor handle the damnable poison. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
And do you remember, Allie, you held the glass to my lips then ? 
Now, I can help myself. 

Enter Joe c, with glasses on waiter. He goes to table l. and sets 

them down. 

Joe. Dat 's right, help yourself. {Exit quickly c. Frank drinks.) 

Judge. I say, Frank. Ha! ha! ha! Bless my soul, I'm getting 
nervous again. Ain't you getting a little too fast ? 

Frank. Fast? fast? Why, I think I am blamed slow, when you 
think what good teachers I've had. Eh? Allie? {Punches Judge 
in ribs, and drinks swallow.) 

Judge. Ha ! ha ! ha ! O, dear, my nerves are getting all unstrung. 
Frank, vou rascal, ain't you going it a little — just a leetle too strong? 

Frank. Strong? {Drinks.) Strong? {Drinks.) Bah! This is 
only sweetened water. I am no longer a baby drunkard, that you 
need thus nurse my appetite. I am a full-grown, manly drunkard, 
and crave brandy. 

Judge. Brandy ! O, my nerves ! 

Frank. O, I beg your pardon. I forgot that I was in a parlor 
where brandy was considered vulgar. Never mind. Come up with 
me to Dick Benton's Gem Saloon to-night, and then you '11 see me 
pop 'em off. {Slaps Judge on shoulder, hard. He coughs.) You'll 
never have cause to blush for me again, old man. 

Judge. Old man! Nonsense! Be careful of that temper, sir. 
Keep cool, now, and no bullying. You are getting too careless in 
the use of the wine-glass. You drink too often. 

Frank. Often ? {Drinks.) Often ? {Drinks.) Why, this is but a 
fashionable thimble measure — only half a swallow. 

Judge. Now, hark ye, Frank, are you going to make a drunkard 
of yourself? 

Frank. Make a drunkard of myself? O, no. {Drinks.) But my 
friends will, unless I look sharp. 

Judge. Yes, and look mighty sharp, too ; for, if you go to getting 
drunk and making a beast of yourself, the house you insult shall no 
longer be your home. 

Allie. '{Crosses and lays hand on his shoulder.) O, father! 

Charles rises. 

Judge. Do n't father me, madam ! Teach your husband to show 
me proper respect, or do not insult me with the name of father! 
{Exit c.) 

Allie. Frank Raymond, I am ashamed of you ! {Exit c.) 



20 Saved. 

Frank (his manner notv more serious, aside). Strange ! strange ! 
Those were the very words he used six months ago, in this room, 
when I refused to drink ; and now that I do drink, just to please 
him and Allie, he gets mad and goes to bullying, (Goes up to table 
and pours out glass of liquor. Aloud.) Charlie, old pard, people 
are constantly growling about mothers-in-law ; but I say, most em- 
phatically, confound my wife's- father ! 

Charlie. Frank, come and sit down. I wish to talk to you. (He 
has placed two chairs down c.) 

Frank. Yes, talk to me like a father or a Dutch uncle, but not like 
a father-in-law. (Coming down, with glass and bottle.) 

Charlie. Frank, I am afraid you are going to the devil. 

Frank. I know I am, and I 've got through tickets. (Holds up 
bottle and glass, and sits l.) 

Charlie. Will you listen to reason? (/Sits in chair it.) 

Frank. Reason! Look around. See this bottle and glass ; see all 
these surroundings, and blush to say reason to me. 

Charlie. What do you think of these Good Templars ? 

Frank. (Quickly.) They are bricks. (Drinks.) 

Charlie. Now, be serious. I am going to join them. 

Frank. Bravo ! Allow me to congratulate you ; but excuse my 
shaking on it. (He has bottle in one hand, and glass in the other. 
As he raises glass to drink, Charles takes it from him and puts it 
on stage at r. of his chair. Frank goes to drink from bottle, but, 
Charlie trying to take it, Frank puts it on stage l.) Yes, you had 
better join these meddling Good Templars, if you are not man 
enough to mind your own business. 

Charlie. Do not be angry, Frank. I am not man enough to resist 
my appetite ; and when I remember how you had lived all your life 
a teetotaler, then yielded to temptation, and are now floating down 
the mad current to destruction, I tremble for my own safety, and 
mean to take every precaution against becoming a drunkard. 

Frank. All right, old boy ; and let me tell you, be careful of the 
tirst glass. Never yield to temptation, though it smile at you in the 
social home glass. Never have your own wife raise the first glass to 
your trembling lips. Nonsense! I 'in no temperance quack. What 
good will it do you to join these Good Templars? 

Charlie. I believe, in unity there is strength, and wish to surround 
myself with temperance friends, who will, by their example and in- 
fluence, shield me from that temptation to which we are all too apt 
to yield ; ami then, if I am sick, I have brothers and sisters to watch 
over me in kindness or bury me with real regard. 

Frank (looking at glass). Well, now, I am opposed to these Good 
Templars — always have been. When I was a teetotaler, six months 
ago (looks at bottle), I said there was no danger of my ever becom- 
ing a drunkard. (Reaches across Charlie's lap to seize glass with 
right hand.) 

Charlie (grasping hand, raises it up, and looks squarely into 
Frank's face). Do you think so now ? 

Frank. (After pause, sighs.) Well, that 's a little mixed ; but I 
don't believe these Good Templars ever save the moderate in- 
dulger. 



Saved. 21 

Charlie, (liises and puts chair back.) I know they do; and, 
better still, they save the young from becoming such. If drunkards 
are only moderate drinkers fully developed, and this society can 
save the men and women — 

Frank, (liises quickly.) That 's right, my covey, put in the women. 
My wife was a woman. 

Charlie. Your poor wife is now a noble-hearted woman, and has 
joined this order, knowing how powerful is woman's influence for 
good or evil. Her experience has made a true-hearted woman from 
a false-headed girl. 

Frank. {Moves chair back.) All right, Charlie, join these secret 
plotters against our liberties. Good-by. (As Charlie starts out c.) 
Stop ! (Gets bottle and glass. Fills it.) Six months ago, you urged 
me to drink a certain toast. Allow me to return the compliment. 
(Gives Charlie glass, and Jills another from table r.) To the Inde- 
pendent Order of Good Templars. May they save us all from becom- 
ing drunkards. (Frank drinks. Charlie stands without drinking. 
Closed in.) 



Scene II. — Music fdr soiig. Street or wood in front. At change., 
procession of Good Templars in full regalia come out, ladies l. 1*e., 
forming across stage in front. Gentlemen enter r. 1 e., and form 
in rear. They sing some popular temperance glee or Templar's ode. 
and then ladies exit r. 1 e., and at same time gentlemen exit l. 1 e. 
Change scene. 



Scene III. — Lively music at change. Full stage, with elegant coun- 
ter at back, tipon which is display of bottles, glasses, etc. Small 
card-tables, with flowers upon them, r. and l. Pistol, sure fire, 
behind bar, where Benton is discovered: 

Fred. (Enters l. 1 e.) Aw, Wichawd, how long befoah the mas- 
quewade commences ? 

Dick. Only a few moments, Mr. Rawlings. Will you join them '( 

Fred. Perhaps. Give me some bwandy. 

Dick. Certainly, sir. You had better join the masqueraders. A 
lot of strange ladies present to-night. 

Fred. Aw! Wei', I'll see who they awe, as I only wish to asso- 
ciate with wespectable society, you know — eh ? Wichawd ? (poking 
Dick in ribs.) By the way, I heard that the women's committee on 
saloon pwayeh-meetings called to see you to-day. 

Dick. Yes, they wanted to hold a religious service here to-night. 
I told them my license did n't specify that kind of business, and I 
should not admit them. Fact is, I'm more afraid of this religious 
women's war on whisky than of all the laws on the statute-books. 
(Fred, having drunk, starts away.) Let me see, did you pav for 
that? 

Fred. Weally, these women made me fohget to pay the dime. 

Dick. Dime nothing. Twenty cents. 

Fred. Watheh high-toned, by jove ! 



22 Saved. 

Dick. Why, confound your impudence, do you take this for a ten- 
cent chebang ? 

Fred. Aw, no. It's moah demnable. It's a high-pwessuah concert, 
saloon. (Sits at table r. Shuffles cards.) 

Frank. (Enters l. 1 e.) Halloo! Richard's himself again! 

Dick. And Raymond is a man. (Then shake hands.) 

Frank. Thank you. Jusl heard that you have a gay old place 
here. Female masqueraders — eh? you rascal? You see I'm pretty 
well posted, if I have just returned from abroad. 

Dick. How's your excellent wife? 

Joe enters l. 1 e. 

Frank. O, quite womanly, thank you. 

Joe. (Crosses to Frank.) Yes, Massa Frank, and dat be why she 
am now cryin' an' takin' on so awful, 'cos you dun gone off down 
here and leab her all alone. Now, massa, I ain't 'tickler 'bout de 
kind ob company I keep, 'cos I 'se only a black nigga : so you just 
leab me here to drink de licker wid dese galoots, an' you go home 
an' s'prisc Miss Allie. 

Frank. (Throws him aside.) O, get out, you black rascal ! (All 
laugh.) 

Joe. O, you need n't laugh, white folks. Mas'r Frank nebber calls 
ole Joe black rascal 'cept when he's in dis kind ob a crowd. (Exit 

L. 1 E.) 

Frank. I say, Dick, do you remember the muss we had up at that 
picnic, when you threatened to pour a glass of liquor down my 
throat? Ha! ha! ha! Just try me now. (Leans over counter.) O, 
wasn't I jolly green? 

Josh enters l. 1 e. 

Josh. Yes, and now you're jolly dry. Look out for spontaneous 
combustion, or you '11 burn up, one of these days. 

Frank. And Josh, too. I declare, you look spruce. (They shake 
hands.) 

Josh. Yaas, and you look kinder dandyish since you returned 
from Europe. 

Frank. Come up to the rack and nominate your pizen. 

Josh. Whisky straight. If I am bar-tender, I'll drink with an 
old friend. 

Fred. (Jumps up quickly.) Cowwect ! So will I, by jingo ! 

Dick Jills glasses. 

Frank. I declare, Fred, I did not recognize you. (They shake 
hands.) What is your best hold ? 

Fred. Aw, Wichawd, as usual, high-toned — (aside) when I 'm 
tweated. 

Frank. You, too, Dick. Swallow your own bitter pills. (They 
all click glasses and drink. Josh passes behind bar.) Halloo, Josh, 
you appear at home. (Goes to table r., and plays with Fred.) 

Dick exits it. u. e. 



Saved. 3d 

Josh. Yaas, I 'm now Mister Benton's head clerk. Beats creation 
how it raises one in public estimation to stand behind a whisky-bar 
out West here. Now, in Varmount, where they 're all so pesky old- 
fashioned, somebow they don't look up to a bar-tender. He can't 
go in good society. Out here, if a man keeps a whisky-shop, he is 
quite respectable. If he is fortunate enough to own a wholesale 
liquor-store, he belongs tew the aristocracy ; and if he runs a distill- 
ery, his ring will be pretty sure tew send him tew Washington tew 
watch our legislation. O, I know the ropes. I 'm getting tew be 
quite a politician myself. (Drinks a big swallow, and chokes.) Fact, 
if bad whisky does kinder stagger me a little. I 'm going to run for 

Sheriff of County. I'm not Josh any more. I'm 3fister 

Slender. 1 goes in good society, because— well, because I wear good 
cloaths, and because — because I do. 

Dick enters r. u. e. 

Dick. The lady masqueraders will now enter. {The ladies enter 
r. and L. u. e., and form up and down stage. They all wear masks.) 
Select your partners for a quadrille. 

Dance-music heard at back. Just as sets are forming, ladies throw 
off masks. 3fusic stops as ladies sing, " Come, Ye Sinners, Poor 
and Needy." Frank and Fred at table back, quietly playing 
cards. Dick, with bowed head, behind counter. At end of third 
verse, Frank jumps up. 

Frank. That 's not fair. 

Fred. You cheated. You did, by jove ! (Ilises slowly.) 
Frank. You lie ! (Draws pistol. Fred draws knife. Dick leaps 
upon counter.) 

Dick. Stand back there, you rascal ! 

He fires at Tom Frazier, who has rushed between Fred and Frank. 
He falls dead c. Other characters take attitude of horror. Police- 
man enters l. u. e. Shakes club at Dick. Ladies all kneel, as 
though in silent prayer, keeping c. of stage open to show audience 
man lying on stage. Scene changes to slow, plaintive music. 



Scene III. — Wood or street, front. 

Josh. (Enters l. 1 e., running and drunk.) Consarn these Meth- 
odists ! Jingo ! I forgot that my old mother belonged tew that 
persuasion. I'll take that cuss-word back for her sake. Wherein 
Sam Hill are all the perlice? They are alius a little too late. If 
I 'm ever killed when I 'm drunk — no, I mean when I 'm sober, for 
I 'm never drunk — hie. If I 'm ever killed, drunk or sober, I '11 never 
pay another doggoned cent city taxes. Now, I've hearn tell that 
when a man is half-tight he generally speaks the truth; and, as I'm 
'bout half-way — hie — fashionable, I hope, if Dick hears me, he '11 lay- 
it tew the whisky ; but, by the jumpin' jehosiphat, I do n't believe it is 



24 Saved. 

right tew sell men any thing that makes 'em act the way they dew at 
the Gem every night. Chaw me inter fine-cut terbacker if I b'lieve 
sellin' licker is half as respectable as organ-grindin' with a lame 
monkey, and drinkin' licker is a cussed sight worse. How in blue 
blazes has drinkin' licker improved Frank Raymond ? I kinder 'bout 
half believe that old-fashioned mother of mine was just about half 
right when she sed tew me, sed she, "Josh, Joshua my son, Josephus. 
licker is cussed, and any man that sells it is a — 

Dick enters r. 1 e. 

Dick. Josh! 

Josh. Is a gentleman. 

Dick. Why did you leave the saloon ? 

Josh. Thought I saw old Van Pelt's ghost — 

Dick. Why did you run ? 

Josh. Did I run ? 

Dick. Did you run ? Well, I should think you did. 

Josh. Wall, I rather thought so myself, but I wasn't quite sure. 

Dick. Were you afraid of the dead man ? 

Josh. No, but I was of them live fellers, pullin' out their knives 
an' pistols. They were masked ; and, if I 'd been killed, how in 
thunder would I have known who to lick for it ? Dick, I do n't like 
the concert business. I hain't got a good ear for its music. I do n't 
object tew the shootin', but somehow that hymn that my old-fash- 
ioned mother used tew sing hit me mighty hard right here. {Hits 
left breast.) If you 've no objections, I '11 resign and go into a lower 
grade of business — turn politician. 

Dick. Then I suppose you'll not object to learn that these Good 
Templars have organized this woman's war on King Alcohol, which, 
is being led by Dio Lewis ? 

Josh. Bully for Dio {dancing) ! 

Dick. Curse him ! {Savagely.) 

Josh. Yes, cuss him. {Stops quickly.) 

Dick. They have, by their prayers and hymns, compelled me to 
vacate the Gem for a daily prayer-meeting. 

Josh. Jerusalem! Say, Dick, let's demoralize, and go to work 
like honest men — sawin' wood. 

Dick. Work ! No, thanks to my sharpness. I have leased, in a 
less fashionable locality, a common bar-room; and not all the Good 
Templars, women, or doctors this side of — (Josh stops him by ges- 
ture) — hades shall drive me out. Come on. I will open it to-night, 
and need your help {going). 

Josh. But, I say, Dick, is a common Avhisky bar-room like 's 

respectable ? 

Dick. Respectable? Why, confound your impudence, don't they 
have back doors ? Do n't some of our moral reformers patronize 
them ? Do n't two-thirds of our lawyers and doctors support them ? 
Don't our commissioners and city councils license them? Respect- 
able ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! Yes, and fashionable, too. {Exit k. 1 e.) 

Josh. All right, Dick, I'll foller ; for a man might as well be dead 
as out of fashion. If I ever catch old Lewis sneakin' 'round our 
back door, I '11 pelt him. {Exit R. 1 e. Change scene.) 



Saved. 25 



Scene IV. — Interior plain. Sewing-machine c, Mrs. Lena Bos- 
worth operating it. Table l. c, upon which lady is cutting out 
patterns. Ella fast asleep in big chair l. Fannie sewing k. 
Enough other ladies to fill scene at work R. and l. At change all 
applaud. 

Fannie. Ha! ha! ha! Lena Bosworth in favor of female suffrage ! 

Lena. Yes, I am in favor of female suffrage — not because I believe 
it is our natural sphere ; but, when I look about me and see how 
women have to suffer from the corruption of political parties, I say 
she should be allowed the privilege of exercising her right to use 
the balance of power which her vote would command. She would 
purify our political, as she does our social element of society. T sat 
she should be allowed at least this one weapon of elective franchise 
to shield herself from unjust laws. (Applause.) 

Fannie. Really, Mrs. Bosworth, you ought to take the stump, and 
turn female lecturer. (All laugh.) 

Lena. My dear girl, you are unjust to meet my arguments, which 
you can not answer, oniy with such silly ridicule. (Applause.) 

Fannie. Yes, but all the women would vote as their fathers, broth- 
ers, or husbands do. 

Lena. Do you think, if the women of this city could vote, thai 
Dick Benton could renew his liquor-license ? 

Ella. No, never ! (llises quickly.) 

Lena. Be careful, Miss Ella. You are a trance-medium, and have 
just delivered a wide-awake argument in favor of female suffrage. 
(All laugh.) 

Ella. I am not asleep now. Any woman who would sleep when 
this question is being discussed should sleep forever, and never wako 
up to know her shame. I am not a woman's rights woman, because 
I believe this same object can be accomplished outside the political 
arena. 

Fannie. Well. Miss "Wideawake, I should like to have you tell us 
how. 

Ella. Let woman exert her influence at home ; in the nurseries 
where every childish ache is not dosed with a little sweetened 
brandy ; in the parlors where our young people shall not be intro- 
duced to temptation. 

Lena. At picnics where ladies do not drink wine. (All laugh.) 

Ella. The result of that day has taught us all a lesson ; and I now 
say, at our daily tables, in private and public, let the ladies, the true- 
hearted women, educate public sentiment to discountenance the man- 
ufacture, sale, or use, wholesale or retail, of spirituous liquors. Let 
us all wake up to this great question of woman's influence. (All 
applaud, and Ella falls asleep.) 

Fannie. "Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." Now, tell 
me, Mrs. Bosworth — for you have lost your trance-medium — do you 
believe women could do this ? 

Lena. From my heart of hearts, I believe she could. I believe 

that, were every lady of to swear by the memory of the 

wrongs intemperance has caused her sex; by the homes it has deso- 



26 Saved. 

lated and grave-yards populated : by the widows it has made and 
the orphans bereft ; by the ocean of blood and tears wrung: from 
innocent hearts — let them swear by their purity, by their virtuous 
womanhood, that they will not associate, in private or public, with 
any man, be he friend or lover, who countenances the sale, wholesale 
or retail, or the use, allopathic or homeopathic, of intoxicating liq- 
uors, and — mark my word — before the next election-day in . 

woman's influence would stuff the ballot-box with temperance, votes. 
(All applaud. Allie speaks outside l. 1 e.) 
Allie. Lena ! Lena ! Pity ! O, pity me ! 
Lena. What is it, darling? (Allie enters l. 1 e.) 
Allie. O. Mrs.Bosworth ! Frank, my husband, whom I tempted 
to drink the first glass, is being lured down to ruin by his evil genius, 
Dick Benton. 

Lena. But his saloon has just been transferred to the Ladies' Anti- 
Saloon Society, where they will establish the head-quarters of their 
dailv prayer-meetings. 

Allie. I know that ; but he immediately reopened his vile den on 

street. (O. would to Heaven that breathing-hole of infamy 

were purged by fire !) And even there, in his degradation, has Frank 
followed him. I have just been to Mr. Benton, and upon my very 
knees prayed, as only a drunkard's wife can pray, that he would sell 
my husband no more liquor. He swears that his license for that bar 
continues an entire year, and not all the Good Templars or prayer- 
meetings in the universe shall stop his vile traffic. 

Lena. O, Mrs. Raymond, I do pity you, Heaven alone knows how 
sincerely; but what can we women do against this giant evil? 

Allie. In the first place, let every woman who hears me to-night 
remember by the example of my misfortune never to offer the first 
glass of temptation to man, woman, or child. 

Lena. This will not assist you in rescuing your husband from a 
drunkard's grave. 

Fannie. O, I wish I was a man ! (Rises quickly. Her chair falls 
over.) 
Ella. So do I. {Yawns.) 

Fannie. I 'd march straight over to Dick Benton's bar-room, and 
would take him by the collar and say to him : Dick Benton, your 
bar-room is a nuisance to this community. It is the only alluring 
door-way to hell now open to our young men. You are sending our 
fathers, sons, brothers, lovers, and friends down to delirium and 
death. Now, sir, listen. Close up this bar-room in just three min- 
utes, or I ? 11 tumble your bar through your window and kick you 
into the street. (All applaud.) 

Ella. So would I. ( Yawns, and all laugh.) 

Lena. (Rises.) O, ladies ! sisters ! The thought, the desire of my 
heart, is wild, wicked, and reckless ; but, if that bar-room was closed, 
Frank Raymond, your husband, our fathers, brothers, and friends, 
might be lured from the downward path to ruin. Will every one 
here present, who has some one who is near and dear to her heart, 
who is treading the path of desolation and death across Dick Ben- 
ton's threshhold — will all such rise to their feet ? (Allie, Fannie, 
and nearly all ladies rise.) So many ! O, so very many ! Friends, 



Saved. 27 

this, is infamous. This man Dick Benton is the destroyer of our 
once happy homes ; his bar-room, our hell on earth. lie is retailing 
our very heart's blood and bitter tears for gold, in his damnable traf- 
fic Were it stopped! were his bar-room closed! Should it be de- 
stroyed ? Do you wish the vengeance of a just God would descend 
upon it in a lightning-flash from heaven? If this fiend hardens his 
heart against woman's prayers and woman's tears, would you, my 
sisters, raise your arms and strike, to close his vile den forever? 

All Ladies (rising). Yes ! yes ! forever ! 

Lena. Then place your hands above your wildly beating hearts, 
and swear (they do so) : Swear by our hopes of peace here and hap- 
piness hereafter ; swear by our love for those we seek to save ; swear 
by our purity and our misery ; swear by ourselves, that Dick Benton 
shall close at once and forever his bar-room, or we, his victims, will 
be our own avengers ! 

Ladies stand in tableau, as curtain falls slowly, with low, %lai7itfve 
music. Curtain. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — Dancing -music. Interior plain. Full stage. A common, 
plain counter runs across stage at back. Behind this, and high 
enough to show from, front, are two or three shelves, upon which 
are quantity of old bottles, etc. Upon counter are bottles and 
glasses. An old table for cards stands r. c. A large empty barrel. 
with upper head out, stands l. c, with bucket of saw-dust behind it. 
Three beer-kegs stand l. 2 e. Whisky-barrel stands it. 2 e. A 
bench in front of counter, on which Joe lies asleep. Three or fot{r 
drunken loafers at table. At curtain, Dick and Josh take a drink- 
behind counter, then come out. 

Dick. Come, now, boys, it's time to close up. 

Josh. Yes, wc 've got all their money. 

Dick. All you drunken loafers ought to be at home. Get out! 

Dick and Josh put m,en out r. and l. Josh then goes and shakes 
Joe, ivho snores violently, when Josh turns bench over. Joe rolls 
well down stage, and makes a hasty exit l. 1 e., Dick kicking him. 

Dick. Ah ! come in, Mr. Raymond. 

Josh. Yes, he 's got a little money left yet. 

Frank. (Enters l. 1 e., very drunk. He has his hankerchief in his 
left hand.) Say, fellers, seen any thing— hie— of my spogget-hand- 
kerchief ? (Coming up stage, Josh steals it out of his hand.) 

Josh. Yaas, Mister Raymond, I found it 'bout an hour ago, up 
there by the counter. 

Frank. Thank you— hie. There's a dollar for you. (He puis 
handkerchief in pocket, gives Josh dollar, and Dick steals handker- 
chief.) 



28 Saved. 

Josh. As my old-fashioned marra used tew say, "Josh," sed she, 
"Joshua my son, Josephus, honesty is the best policy.'' (Pockets dol- 
lar. Josh exits r. 2 e.) 

Frank. Now, then, give me another — hie — drink, and I '1 1 go home 
to my fife and wamily. 

Dick. (Steps behind counter.) Another drink ? Yes, sir. Cer- 
tainly, sir. (Fills tumbler.) Ten cents. 

Frank. Correct. (Goes to take it, but every time he does so, Dick 
puts his hand on glass.) 

Dick. Ten cents, sir. 

Frank. That 'sail right. 

Dick. Ten cents. yo ( u rascal. 

Frank. Chalk it down. 

Dick. Not much, Mary Ann. 

Frank. "Well, I'll give me your note. 

Dick. Cash down, you puppy ! 

Frank. (Pays it.) You used to charge twenty cents at the Gem 
Saloon. 

Dick. Yes; but, as we go down in the scale of respectability, 
things fall. 

Frank. So they do. (Me goes to drink quickly, and falls onto 
bench.) 

Dick. Want any more liquor? 

Frank. Not unless you 've got a — hie — force-pump. 

Dick. (Comes out at him.) Then get out of here. You ought to 
he ashamed to make such a beast of yourself. (Pulls him down c.) 
( -ome, get out. "We want to shut up. 

Frank. Well, why do n't you shut up — hie. 

Allik enters l. 1 e. Dick releases Frank, who staggers r. and sit* 

in chair. 

' Frank. (Aside.) I should think my wife could get liquor enough 
for a woman Good Templar by smelling of my breath. (Aloud.) 
What do you want ? 

Allie. I desire Mr. Benton to promise not to sell you any more 
liquor. 

Frank. Well, he won't do it. 

Allie goes up to Dick and kneels. 

Allie. O, sir, are you human ? How many times have 1 and other 
wives and mothers kneeled thus before you in disgraceful humility, 
and begged you not to sell those we love more liquor! Do not, O 
do not give Frank that which turns my love almost to hato. (She 
gets up.) 

Dick. See here, woman, 1 have been tormented with you enough 
,for one day ; and, if you (tome here any more with your prayers and 
tears, I'll kick you out. 

Frank. You? you kick my wife? (). this cursed liquor' Has it. 
made me such a stupid brute? 

Dick. Now, madame. get out. or J '11 — (Raises bottle, as though to 
strike her.) 



Savkh. Bf) 

Frank. Look here, Dick Benton, 1 am not quite drunk enough to 
sit here and see my wile insulted by a dog- like you. (Jumps up and 
raises chair over Dick's head, who lowers bottle, and Frank resumes 
seat.) 

Dick. Now. Frank, don't get mad. You and I are too old friends 
to quarrel about a woman. Mrs. Raymond, it* you are through, you 
had better skedaddle. 

Allie. I am not through. I will usurp my very nature to accom- 
plish the object of this dreaded visit. Will you promise to sell my 
husband no more liquor ? 

Dick. No. (Goes behind bar.) 

Allik. Beware, Mr. Richard Benton. I hold your very life in my 
power. I warn you of the consequences to refuse. Your property 
is in danger. Now, sir, for the last time, will you continue to sell nil 
our fathers, husbands, and sons liquor? 

Dick. Here, Josh ! (Josh enters r. 2 k.) There 's going to he a row. 

Josh. With the women ? O, Lord ! 

Allik. Will you sell liquor to my husband ? 

Dick. Just as long as he can stagger up to that bar and pay for it. 

Lkna. (Enters l. 1 e.) Then, sir, you must close this bar. 

Dick. And who in thunder are you ? 

Lena (advancing. Josn retires behind counter.) An honest Avoman. 

Dick. O, yes, I know you now. You are one of these G-ood Tem- 
plars. What do you want ? 

Lena. Nothing but God's justice. 

Dick. I '11 have no praying in the saloon. 

Lena. (Aside.) Then you'll have a big row. (Aloud.) I ask you. 
in all kindness and Christian charity and forbearance, to read that 
paper. It's a pledge not to sell Frank Raymond more liquor. (She 
hands it to him.) 

Dick. And this is the use I make of it. (Tears it up.) Look here, 
madame, you cursed Good Templars, with your prayer-meeting, have 
made me vacate my Gem Saloon. You have scared off, prayed otf. 

or bought otf every saloon-keeper in ; but there is my license. 

signed, sealed, and stamped. Do you doubt its legality ? 

Frank (staggering tip to bar). Le' me see it, Dick. 

Dick. Yes, read it, Mr. Raymond. I know you are a lawyer. 

Frank. You shouldn't judge by appearances — hie. 

Dick. Is it not legal? 

Frank. No, I think not. (Tears it up.) 

Dick. Scoundrel, I'll have you arrested for this crime. 

Frank. Crime? O, I'm too — hie — drunk to be responsihle. 

Dick. Well, license or no license, you shall neither sing nor pray 
here. Neither will I refuse to sell this fool liquor, nor will I close 
this bar. 

Lena. Then Richard Benton, we will — 

Dick. We ? Who ? 

Lena. The avengers. 

Ladies step out from all entrances, with hatchets and axes raised. 
Stand a moment in tableau. Then Dick seizes hatchet from behind 
counter. Josh falls behind counter. Frank rises from chair. 



:$0 Saved. 

Dick. Death and furies ! The first woman who lays hands on my 
property dies ! (liaises hatchet.) 

Frank. (Draws and presents pistol at Dick.) Steady there, Dick 
Benton. I am just drunk enough to blow your infernal brains out, 
if you don't kneel down and say your prayers. 

Music by orchestra, "Come, Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy'." As 
Dick kneels, Fannie and Allie pull over counter. Josh leaps out 
and jumps into barrel. Ella pours saw-dust into it, and he stands 
up as though begging for mercy. Lena and a lady pull over shelv- 
ing at back, while all other ladies are bursting up barrels and old 
furniture as curtain falls. Curtain. 



ACT TV. 

.Uusic, "Father, Dear Father, Come Home with Me Now," at 
curtain. Interior very poor. A bundle of straw r. u. e., with old 
blanket over it. Frank lies on this, but does not sleep. During 
scene, he keeps moving about hands, points around stage, and is 
very tineasy. Allie sits upon low stool at his l. 

Allie. O, misery ! misery I Great Heaven, is there no hope ? 
Am I powerless to save the husband whom I have murdered — the 
husband who, but for my mad, girlish act in tempting him to drink 
the first glass of wine, might even now be my protector, instead of 
being dependent upon one who, in her weakness and poverty, is all 
powerless to save from the ravings of delirium ? O, if he wouhl 
only sleep ! If not, he will die, and I shall be his murderer. O, how 
I keep wishing that the fashionable circle which surrounded us on 
our wedding-night could stand beside ns now, and see the last sad, 
sad scene in the career of the poor drunkard ! I wish all the great 
world of moderate drinkers, old and young, rich and poor, could sec 
the drunkard's home. O, father! 

Judge Gushing enters L. 1 e. Allie starts toward him. 

Judge. Stop ! Is your husband dead ? 

Allie. No, thank Heaven ! 

Judge. Good morning. (Going l.) 

Allie. Father, would you desert us again? Can you not forgive, 
even upon his death-bed, one whom you and I have assisted in laying 
there. 

Judge. O, don't preach tome. I am too nervous. I never wished 
him to be more than a social fellow well met. I never expected he 
would make a fool of himself this way. I do n't see why it is that 
some people can, and, as I know from experience, do drink all their 
lives, and yet only be moderate drunkards — ah, hem! — drinkers, 
(bless my soul, how nervous !) while others, in a few years, make 
perfect sots of themselves. 



Saved. 3 1 

Allie. But, since so many, so very, very many do, let (hose who 
are only moderate drinkers be warned, "fearfully warned, by the 
example of his misfortune. 

Judge. There, there, that will do. I keep telling you I am too 
nervous to listen to your temperance lectures. Come, pack up your 
duds, if you Ve got any he has not pawned for liquor — pack up and 
come home again. 

Allie. O, father, dear, good father, are you in earnest? Have 
you forgiven us ? Will you, indeed, rescue us from this squalid mis- 
ery ? Have you come to save us from starvation? 

Judge. Now, now, don't get pathetic. Don't you hear me keep 
telling you I am nervous ? 

Allie. But tell me, do you think, are you sure it would be safe to 
remove Frank ? 

Judge. Remove Frank ? "Well, I rather think not. 

Allie. O, thank you ! I knew you would be mindful of Frank. 

Judge. Yes, I will be mindful of Frank. You don't suppose 1 
would take him back again now, after having kicked him out a year 
ago. You alone are welcome to return to a home he has disgraced. 

Allie. But, Father, you certainlv do not expect me to leave 
Frank ? 

Judge. Why not. Can Frank provide for you ? Can Frank keep 
you from starving ? Can Frank keep even this crazy old nervous 
roof above you much longer? Can Frank support you in his bran- 
dy ? Tell me how many months ago was it that he turned you from 
this very door, and with kicks, cuffs and curses, ordered you to leave 
his home forever ? 1 will send Joe over to watch until he is better. 
{Dead.) So you can come home to your former life of luxury. 

Allie. But, Father. 

Judge. Come, come, now, no nonsense ; no nervousness. Choose 
quickly. Home with me to a life of happiness, or home here, and a 
death of misery. 

Allie. You are cruel to doubt my choice. You have ever been a 
kind and indulgent father to me, and now offer me what — with star- 
vation staring me in the face, it is hard, very hard, to refuse. I ex- 
pect to die if I remain here ; but in life or death, I am still Frank 
Raymond's wife. 

Judge. You will stay— 

Allie {Goes to Frank.) Where the wife's duty calls here forever. 

Judge. Good bye. Exit l. 1 e. 

Allie. Father, Father, one word ; one kind word at parting. 
Father, Frank, Oh, Father. Allie exits l. 1 e. 

Frank. {Raises iq)on elbow.) Allie, Allie, don't go ; don't leave 
me alone. {Raises upon knee.) Gone, gone. Oh, Heavens, come 
back to me, Allie ; don't desert me while all these creeping rascals 
are about me, dropping from the ceiling onto my head. See, yonder 
in the corner ; see it's eyes ! hear it snap it's teeth ! Yonder through 
the door, see that crawling snake, creeping this way, soft and gently 
gliding nearer. I'll run. {He can't.) No, no, I can't move. I can't 
escape. Oh, how it's glistning eyes bind me charmed by the serpent 
of the still. Now it's twining about my legs, twisting about my 
body, coiling around my throat. Help! help! Murder! {Falls c.) 



32 Saved. 

(Allie enters l. 1 e. Rushes to Fkamk and kneels.) Oh, Frank, 
my husband. Lost, lost, forever. {Drops head upon Frank's breast. 
Closed in. Mimic repeats Father, Dear Father.) 



Scene II. — Street, or wood front. 

Dick. (Enters l. 1 e.) Confound these Good Templars. They 
chase me like blood hounds. Well, let them howl. They have run 
me into my den, at last, and let them find me, if they can. First, 
their prayer meeting closed up my concert saloon, and I fell one step 
lower. Next, that mob of she devils gutted my bar-room, and I only 
got my fingers burned for sueing them. Next, I found a stand out- 
side the city limits. Ah. ha, ha. There I had thwarted these pray- 
ing Templars. Ha, ha, ha ; but my shanty was struck by lighting, 
and down I tumbled another peg. Step by step have these advo- 
cates of temperance reform been yelping at my heels, until they have 
driven me into my underground doggery, where Frank Raymond 
and other such customers can't come to me. So I am going after ray 
customers. (Exit r. 1 e.) 

Joe enters slyly l. 1 B. 

Joe. Yes, and there's still anodder hound dat's trackin' you like 
a roarin' lion, seekin' who he may dewour. Look out, Old Benton, 
dars a niggh roun' here somewhere. I smells him, suah. (Exti R. I e. 
Change scene.) 



Sckne III. — Interior of cellar. Full stage. Barrel stand* c. with 
words " whiskee, 2 sents a swig," chalked upon it. Wooden faw- 
ctfor drawing liquor; quart cup under this. Josh seated on bar- 
rel, with tin pint cup in his hand ; it has a big stamp on bottom. 
Music at curtain* "Johnnie, Fill ui* the Bowl." 

Josh. Wall, I wonder if selling liquor is respectable ? I've ? bout 
made up my mind (hat my old fashioned marm was exactly right, 
when she sed tew me, Josh, sed she, Joshua, my son, Josephus, drink- 
in' licker is worse than suckin' hell-tire through a rye straw, and 
sellin,' is as much worse as wholesaling is worse than retailin*. (Look- 
ing about stage.) This don't look tew me as though it was either 
respectable, fashionable, or payin.' (Looks at bottom of cup.) That's 
a government stamp. Dick pays his duties on whisky as its drank, 
and that's why its tew cents a swig. Go's this one cent stamp doc- 
till the cup's eat up by the pesky stuff. (Sits down.) Beats all how 
all our fashionable customers have gone back on us unless like Frank 
Ilaymond, they have gone down with us. (Draws ticker.) Durn the 
licker business. (Drinks.) This a nice place tew wind up Our busi- 
ness for when Dick got into my debt one dollar and sixpence on 
back salary, and ten shillings borricd capital, he took me in equal 
partner and pretty considerably he took me in, too, for I dew all the 



Saved. 33 

work, and he takes care of the sinkin' fund. (Drinks.) So we 
don't have much floatin' capital. (Brinks.) Ten foot under the side 
walk ; wonder if we aint about as low down as human's ever git in 
this world. (Pulls up trap door in floor.) Private grave-yard for 
our worn out customers. 

(Dick appears upon ladder; ladder set in L. u. k. He has Frank 

in his arms.) 

Dick. What are you doing now ? 

Josh. Seeing if this trap ain't next door to hell. 

Dick. Here, help me dowm with this load. 

Josh. (Goes up stage.) Why, it's Frank Raymond ; going to bury 
him down the trap, like what you did Tom Frazier? 

Dick. Hush ; here, help him down. 

Josh. All right, boss. (Dick drops Frank while Josh is pulling 
off his coat.) 

Dick. Clumsy booby. 

Josh. So he is. (kicks Frank as he lays on stage,) unless he's dead, 
or drunk. 

Dick. No he's nearly dead for the want of a drunk. He is dying 
for the want of brandy. 

Frank. (liaising to elbow.) Brandy, brandy, brandy. 

Josh. Just as natural as life. 

Dick. We must doctor him up. This old whisky is good medi- 
cine. 

Josh. (Draws a cup of liquor.) Wall, now, I don't know about 
that. My old-fashioned* marm used tew say tew me, Josh, sed she, 
Joshua, my son, Josephus, a drug store that retails or a doctor who 
prescribes liquor for a patient, ought tew be regularly licensed. a« 
dealers in intoxicating liquor. Here, take your benzine. (Josh IwUh 
ctip under Frank's nose ; he seizes it quickly and drinks.) 

Josh. Gosh-a-shun, he snaps at it like a mad dog. 

Frank. Brandy, brandy ; whisky, more, more. (Throws away cup.) 

Josh. See here, don't break up our furniture that way. (Frank 
grabs quart cup and drinks.) See here, Frank Raymond, have you 
gone into the Avholesale liquor trade, or is the wholesale liquor going 
into you ? Here, that ain't been stamped ; you are making altogeth- 
er too free. (Takes measure away from him.) 

Dick. Yes, pay for what you have drank, and then measure the 
rest. 

Frank. Only one more swallow; see, lam better now. (Gets up 
o« knees.) See how it strengthens me ; now I am a man again. 
(Stands up.) Oh, if you love me — 

Dick. Yes, and we love our money, too. 

Frank. Money, money, haven't I paid you every cent? 

Josh. No, not every cent, Frank ; my books won't quite balance. 
(Tunis around barrel and shows a lot of tally chalk marks upon it,.) 
Figures won't lie. 

Frank. Oh, I am penniless. 

Dick. That's all gammon ; you used to have squads of money. 

Frank. Yes, and then I had friends ; I used to have a pleasant 



34 Saved. 

home ; I used to have a good name ; I used to have a great many 
things which I have lost. 

Josh. {Aside.) Say, Dick, I wonder if he lost them all at our 
counter, as he did his pocket handkercher. 

Frank. I will have more whisky to keep these howling demons 
from roasting me alive. Brandy, brandy. {Fall c. in front of barrel 
with head down the stage.) 

Josh. If we give away our liquor, how are we to pay our income 
tax? Say, Dick, let's stamp this whisky in bulk. {Raises foot over 
Frank.) Let's investigate his finances. {They kneel on each side 
of him. and pull his pants pockets inside out, then rise.) 

Josh. Say Dick, you picked up a dead duck ; he ain't worth a 
cuss. 

Dick. Take him up and drop him into the gutter. {Josh partially 
lifts him.) Stop. {He drops him.) If we take him up he may 
smell us out, when those Good Templars are watching, and then the 
police would make a raid on our underground doggery. 

Josh. Wall, Dick, what's to be did ? 

Dick. {Picks up an ax.) Dead men tell no tales. 

Josh. Yes, but I sav, Dick, hold on a minute, is mm*der respecta- 
ble? 

Dick. He ought to have died six weeks ago, when his money was 
all gone, we had no further use for him ; besides it.would be a great 
blessing to his poor wife, and save the city his funeral expenses. 
{Raises ax.) 

Josh. Thunder and lightning, Dick, don't be in such a bloody 
pucker. Say, you hadn't better have no witnesses tew this little 
game. So, I'll just pop up on the sidewalk, and watch these sneak- 
ing police. '{Exit up ladder.) 

Dick. All right. {Raising ax, then stops and takes a drink.) Now, 
then, I'll tap him on the head, and quiet him forever. {As he raises 
ax to strike, Policeman leajts from ladder with club. Josh jumps 
down with revolver pointed at Dick.) 

Josh. Steady, there, as my old marm used tew say — 

Joe. {On. ladder.) Niggah on de wood pile, don't you hear him 
holler. 

{Music, " Rogues' March." Closed in. 



Scene IV. — Front street. Charlie and Fred enter l. 1 e. 

Charme. Will you join our lodge of Good Templars? 

Fred. ( Who is in rags.) Oh, I'm afraid I am too far gone to be 
reclaimed. 

Charlie. No, my friend, one year ago I said the same thing ; I 
had suffered two attacks of delirium tremens. In comparison with 
my condition then Frank Raymond is now a respectable man. I was 
literally taken from the gutter by Lena Bosworth ; taken to her 
pleasant home, nursed into sobriety, and then initiated into — - — 
Lodge, and since that night, I have never tasted a drop of intoxica- 
ting liquor. 



Saved. 35 

Fred. You were fortunate; but they would never receive such as 
me into their pure society. 

Charlie. Certainly they will. That is the great principle of their 
reform, "make every man a brother." No matter how low you have 
sunk in the scale of human degradation, make an effort to save your- 
self, and they will outstretch their hands with the friendly Tem- 
plar's grip to assist you. 

Fred. You seem very confident of their ability to save the poor 
drunkard. 

Charles. I have " Faith.'' 

Fred. And then you speak to me so cheerfully of the future. 

Charlie. Because, I have " Hope." 

Fred. But I don't see why you should trouble yourself about a 
poor, degraded wretch, like me. 

Charlie. Because, I have " Charity" Oh, Mr. Rawlings, these are 
magic words. They are the motto of an organization which is to- 
day wielding a mighty power for temperance reform. Good-night. 
{Going r.) I will see you again, in a few moments, when we will go 

to the hall of Lodge. " Cast your destinies with them, there 

you are safe, the destroyer can never enter there." Remember the 
Good Templar's motto, "Faith, Hope, and Charity." {Exit R. 1 e.) 

Frank enters l. 1 e. hat in hand. 

Frank. Charity, charity, only a few pennies for a hungry man. 

Fred. My dear fellow, are you really in want of food ? 

Frank. Yes, sir, I am starving for one sup of brandy. {Looks up 
at Fred.) 

Fked. Great Heavens! it's Frank Raymond! {Turns r.) Oh, 
Munson ! Munson ! take me to your temperance lodge. {Exit r. 1 e.) 

Frank. Go, go, before it is too late ; for you were the first who, 
upon my wedding night, tempted me to drink. 

Judge enters l. 1 e. 

Frank. Charity, charity, only a few pennies to a starving man. 

Judge. Yes, yes, poor fellow, you look half famished. Don't hang 
your head. You need not be ashamed to beg, if you are hungry. 
Hold up your head {Drops money into his hat) like tf rank Ray- 
mond. 

Frank. {Throios money at his feet.) Keep your money, Judge 
Cushing. You and yours have paid your per centage towards mak- 
ing Frank Raymond a drunkard. 

Judge. Oh, don't preach to me. I am too nervous. If you won't 
take money, here is a bottle of brandy. {Takes it from his pocket and 
hands it to Frank.) Now, the best thing you can do is, to drink 
your fill and die, which would save me the trouble of going to the 
Court House after my daughter's divorce. {Exit l. 1 e.) 

Frank. The last bottle, and the farewell drink. {As he raises it 
to his lips, Lena, who has hastily entered l. 1 e. siezes bottle.) Let 
go of that bottle ! It's mine ; Father Cushing bequeathed it to me 
as a parting gift. Let go ! I say. Take off your hand, or I'll {liaises 



36 Savei>. 

his right hand to strike, when he sees who it is.) Lena Bosworth, do 
not rob me of my liquor. 

Lena. If not it will rob you of life, as it has already, of everything 
else which once made life happy. 

Frank. Oh, I know, but I must have one more drink ; the flames 
of hell are raging in my breast. 

Lena. Would you add fuel to the flames? 

Frank. Oh! pity! pity, and despise me, but I must have liquor. 

Lena. No ! not another drop ! 

Frank. Do not tempt me, woman. I am not Frank Raymond, to- 
night. I am a madman, and for one drop of liquor, I would strike 
you dead. (He releases his hold of bottle to strike. She throws bot- 
tle off l. 1 e. and/olds her arms across her breast.) 

Lena. Now, Frank, strike. 

Frank. Lost! lost! forever! (Drops on knees.) 

Lena. No, not lost, but you are standing upon the crumbling brink 
of a drunkard's grave. 

Frank. And you, too, have come to curse me. 

Lena. No, but with Heaven's help, to save you. 

Frank. Too late ! too late ! There is no hope. 

Lena. While there's life there's hope. Frank Raymond, think ! 
Remember the past. Reflect how, as a boy, you knelt down beside 
a dead father, and promised a dying, Christian mother, that you 
would never touch, taste, or handle the poison which killed your 
father. 

Frank. Great Heavens! and this is how 1 have kept that oath. 
( Weeps.) 

Lena. Frank ! Frank ! Let me call you by the name your mother 
loved, and believe, with me, that she is to-night, looking down from 
her starry home, in Heaven, weeping, hoping, praying, and expect- 
ing your reform. 

Frank. Too late ! I am a friendless drunkard. 

Lena. (Lays her hand on his shoulder.} Not friendless while 1 
live ; not friendless wherever a Good Templar stretches out a help- 
ing hand. Frank Raymond, rouse yourself; be a man, once more. 
Call upon your lost pride; your honor; your manhood, to assist 
you. Remember. Dick Benton's bar-room is closed forever. 

Frank. Thank God. 

Lena. There is now no alluring doorway of temptation open in 

. Look up. (He does so.) Now have "Faith," Stand up. 

[He does so.) Now have " Hope,'' and to prove that I have "Chari- 
ty," make an effort to be Frank Raymond again, and there is a Good 
Templars hand to save you. 

Frank. (Takes her hand.) Oh, madam, these are the first words 
of Christian kindness I have heard for many aweary month. Others 
have said, poor Frank, drunken brute ; how I pity and despise him. 
And these have been the words of Christian charity with which the 
so-called, moral reformers have attempted to accomplish a reforma- 
tion only to be secured by such noble acts as this. You have roused 
the little slumbering spark of manhood in my breast, and with 
tVllie's prayei's, I might have been saved, but she, too, deserted me. 

Lena. No, she has not deserted you. Such a suspicion wrongs 



Savkd. 37 

woman's nature ; does injustice to woman's love. Look yonder (k. 1 
e.) is my residence. Come, Frank, I will prepare Allie for this great 
happiness. (Exit r. 1 e.) 

Frank. Dare I hope. Oh, Mother! Mother! is it thy sainted 
spirit whispers to my trembling soul ! Allie ! darling, wife ! Save 
me from temptation. (Exit r. 1 e.) 

Change scene. Music, " Home, Sweet Home." 



Scene V. — Full stage. From c. off l. u. e. are steps, leading onto 
porch with railing in front. Leads back to door in flat l. u. e. 
Scene backed by garden. 

Judge Gushing. (Enters, dancing, l. 1 e.) Bravo ! bravo ! I have 
Allie's precious document safe at last ; and, with this in one hand 
(holds up paper) and Frank's ruin in the other (holds up bottle), I 
can cry — (raises bottle to lips. Frank enters r. 1 e.) Damnation! 

Frank. O, Allie, darling wife, save me from temptation! (Allie 
appears upon porch l. u. e.) 

Allie. Husband! (Starts across porch.) 

Frank. Wife! (Going up to steps.) 

Lena enters i.. 1 e. 

Judge. Divorced ! (Steps between them and holds up paper. Allie 
sinks back into Lena's arms, and is assisted off l. u. e. Allie drojis 
handkerchief on railing near door.) 

Frank. Stand aside, old man. No power on earth shall keep me 
from the presence of my wife. 

Judge. Stand back, young man. This (holds up bottle) has ever 
stood between you and happiness. (Me sets it on railing near steps 
c.) Pass that sentinel, and at this door I '11 meet you with my daugh- 
ter's divorce. (Holds it above head, and exits l. u. e.) 

Frank (at r. 1 e.) O, man ! man ! are you human, to place in the 
very path over which I must pass to happiness my deadliest enemy ! 
Fill yonder porch with armed men, and I will not falter. Place upon 
the very step a fuse-lit cannon, and I will face it. Uprear a mountain 
in its place, and I '11 climb to her I love ; but, as you love your soul's 
etftrnal rest, hurl down that fiend incarnate ! Allie ! Allie ! I come ! 
(Staggers back.) Death and destruction ! The fumes of liquor send 
me cowering back. (Retreats to l. 1 e.) Allie ! Lena ! I '11 reach 
your side, or fall beneath that bottle's power. (He goes up left, and 
finds Allie's handkerchief as his hand rests on railing.) It 's Allie's, 
thank Heaven ! (Kisses it.) Now, then, my precious one, I '11 face 
the dreaded foe. (He covers face with handkerchief ; but, as he gets 
to bottle, his hand strikes it. He pulls off handkerchief, and raises 
bottle to drink.) Farewell, Allie ! a long, a last farewell! 

Allie (from off stage l. u. e.) O, Frank ! Frank, my husband ! . 
(Frank does not drink, but puts bottle back on railing, and drops 
down below porch, watching.) 



38 Saved. 

Judge. (Enters l. u. e.) I tell you he is not your husband, for I 
hold in my hand the court's decree of divorce. 

Allie. (Enters l. u. e.) Whom God hath joined together, let not 
man put asunder. (Lena enters l. l t . e. All of them on porch. 
Allie takes divorce front Judge.) This is man's decree of injustice 
(tears it), torn into fragments by woman's justice, and scattered to 
the winds of heaven by the breath of woman's scorn. (As she throws 
scraps of paper over the railing, they fall like snow upon Frank, who 
is kneeling below, porch being about four feet above stage.) I tell 
you that in the sight of God I am still Frank Raymond's wife ; and, 
though he is a hopeless drunkard, heart and soul, I love him. 

Judge. (Aside.) Confound these women ! They always make me 
nervous. (Aloud.) Very well, you are sealing your own doom. 
You are linking your future life with that of a miserable sot; for I 
tell you that, witli that black bottle before him, Frank Raymond — 

Frank. (Stands up.) Would rise up, and, in the strength of his 
lost manhood regained, would seize the tyrant by his neck (He seizes 
bottle. Judge rubs his hands with glee. Allie stretches hers out to 
Frank imploringly. Lena raises hers in prayer), and, by God's 
grace, dash it down to hell ! (He smashes bottle off l. 2 e.) 

Allie. Husband ! (She rushes into his arms.) 

Frank. Wife ! (Kisses her.) 

Judge. Foiled ! O, my nerves ! (Exit r. 2 e.) 

Frank. Mrs. Bosworth, Allie, mother (kneels), hear my prayer, 
and register my oath in thy prayerful memory. Heaven giving me 
strength, and the Good Templars a home, I '11 live or die a sober man ! 

Allie's head on Lena's shxhdder, with hand on Frank's head. 

Lena. Saved, thank Heaven ! 

Charles Munson enters r. u. e., leading Fred Rawlings by the 
hand, followed by Josh. A Worthy Chief Templar comes out 
from l. u. e., followed by other officers. Members of the order 
come on from l. 2 e., and all stand in tableau as slow curtain falls. 
Music, "The Doxology." 



finis. 



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